The Woeful Tale of Princess Dirtyfishydishiel
by Caraid
Summary: A modern girl falls into Middle-earth and is forced to be the pleasure-slave of Gimli! Aragorn has recurring bouts of the hiccups! Actually, it's a randomly generated plot from a random ficplot generator! Humor/Parody AU. Enjoy
1. A girl falls into Middleearth SPLAT!

Special thanks to Anthea and the Lord of the Rings Random Ficplot Generator: (www.kitsune.cx/~amorpha/lotr-plotgen.html) and Kero from the OFUM list, who generated the random plot and shared.  
  
Colonel Dirtyfishydishcloth belongs to Tori Amos  
  
Lord of the Rings, and all characters and concepts therein, belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and the Tolkien estate.  
  
The Woeful tale of Princess Dirtyfishydishiel  
  
One: A girl falls into Middle-earth. SPLAT!  
  
Margaret was called Gretel-not for any truly known reason, but it probably had to do with the fact that between cousins, aunts, and grandmothers, there was a Margaret already, not to mention two Megs, a Maggie, and a Meggie. She was a rather plain girl, with undescript brown hair that was neither thick nor thin. She was tall, and on the plump side, given to wearing flat shoes to disguise her height. No one would confuse Gretel with her alter-ego, Princess Dirtyfishydishiel of Enyanal Forest, her self- inserted character into Middle-earth.  
  
Princess Dirtyfishydishiel was a gorgeous Elf, tall, but slender, with gentle soft curls of golden honey colored hair cascading down to her ankles. Her eyes were like sapphires or amethysts depending on her mood. She sang like a nightingale, luring the animals of the forest to her. She could even tame the infamous Spiders of Mirkwood with her voice alone- something she discovered after she journeyed from the East to join in an arranged marriage to Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. This was, of course, before all the foolish frippery with the ring. In fact, despite the fact that Princess Dirtyfishydishiel and Legolas despised each other before he was summoned for the Council of Elrond, it was on the quest that Princess Dirtyfishydishiel and Legolas realized their true love for each other, and after the Ring was destroyed, Legolas and Princess Dirtyfishydishiel were reunited and married in Mirkwood, and lived there happily until the end of time.  
  
Gretel liked that fantasy. Princess Dirtyfishydishiel was perfect in every way. And she got to sleep with Legolas-who was undoubtedly the hottest creature in Middle-earth. There was no secret that Gretel was in love with Legolas. She had made her father return her copy of The Two Towers (the one with ugly old Saruman on it) in favor of the new edition with Legolas on it. Not that she truly had read the books. She had used the index to find all the parts with Legolas in it, and skipped the rest. After all, what else mattered? She had read a little bit of The Hobbit until she realized that Legolas was not mentioned in it at all.  
  
But she was over that now, because she had found a ring just a few seconds ago. In fact, it looked exactly like the ring that Legolas had given Princess Dirtyfishydishiel upon his return from the Quest to Destroy the Ring. Well, it looked exactly as she had pictured it in her mind when she wrote it down. It was a mithril ring (fashioned from some of the rings from Frodo's mithril vest of course) with three strands weaving together in a braid, until at the top it held a large sapphire surrounded by diamonds. There was no mistaking that it was the same one as she had described.  
  
Gretel wondered if she had actually written the truth-that Legolas actually had married Princess Dirtyfishydishiel and they were still living until the end of time together in bliss. Well, until Gretel was born because she and Princess Dirtyfishydishiel were the same person... thing... whatever. And now she was old enough to find Legolas again, and the ring was a definite sign that it was time to do so. She wondered where Middle-earth would be in comparison to Earth. She gazed at the ring while she sat down to think. It wouldn't be the Middle-East, that was for sure, even though their names were close. No, it was probably in some parallel dimension below Earth, but not yet to the Earth's core. That way it would be Middle-earth!  
  
Smiling triumphantly, Gretel slipped the ring on her finger, heading for the nearest man-hole where she could start her journey downward to Middle- earth. She didn't go very far before a void opened up and she started to fall.  
  
~*~  
  
Gretel awoke to find a creature of supernatural beauty looking down at her. The creature was humanoid in appearance, fair beyond the measure of men, with pointed ears. It was an Elf! She had done it! She was in Middle- earth!  
  
Gretel sat up far to fast, causing a dizzy-spell. She held her head and looked around. It looked like triage in an ER, there were so many bodies around. Some were waiting patiently, some were standing, some were sitting on the ground, still unconscious. This wasn't like any Middle-earth she had seen on the movie screen.  
  
"Welcome to the Halls of Mandos," said the Elf. "Before we sort you out, we're going to need a little information."  
  
Gretel sputtered for a second. "You're an Elf!" she said, before she realized how stupid she sounded.  
  
The Elf shook its head. "No, I am a Maia," it corrected.  
  
"A what?" Gretel asked, trying to clear her head.  
  
"A Maia," it repeated. " A lesser spirit of the Ainur."  
  
Gretel was still visibly confused at the remark. She hadn't heard of any Maia or Ainur in Middle-earth. She was beginning to think she had landed in the wrong place.  
  
"Never mind," the Maia said. "In order to process you best, I'm going to need your name, race, and the approximate date upon which you fell."  
  
Gretel blinked. "I don't understand," she said.  
  
The Maia sighed, as if it had been through this many times before. "You are in the Halls of Mandos. Annex 12-Q to be precise. In order to get out, you need to be processed. I need your name, race, and the approximate date upon which you fell."  
  
It was now or nothing. Gretel was dimly remembering something about Halls of Mandos now. She had read it in some piece of fanfiction or another. She couldn't remember everything about them, but she realized they must be some sort of gateway. Probably to keep the true beings of Middle-earth in, and the rest of the people from Earth out. "Princess Dirtyfishydishiel of Enyanal Forest," she declared. "I'm an elf, and I was born at the beginning of the Third Age." At least that was the background she had made up for Princess Dirtyfishydishiel.  
  
The Maia nodded, noting on a scroll that appeared out of nowhere, 'Margaret Mary Smythe, December 19, 2003 CE (Mod. E.).' "Right," the Maia said, pointing to a suddenly appearing entryway. "Off you go."  
  
As Gretel walked towards the door, she heard the Maia sigh to a companion, "Another twenty-first century girl falls into Middle-earth. Too bad when they fall, they all go 'splat' which sends them here. Welcome to the Halls of Mandos."  
  
~*~  
  
"Number seven-hundred eighty-six thousand, five-hundred and two?" a voice asked.  
  
Gretel down at the slip of paper in her hands and then up at the other Maia- the one in charge of this Hall in the Halls of Mandos (Annex 87-R). "Here," Gretel called. Who knew that there were take-a-number machines in Middle-earth? Well in the Halls of Mandos. During the time she had been waiting, discussing her plight with a girl who maintained she was half- hobbit, half-elf, and raised by the Ents (there were Ents in Middle-earth? What were Ents anyway?) by the name of Forsythial Undomiwen, Gretel had come to the conclusion that the Halls of Mandos were indeed Hell. This Mandos person must be Satan, and she was going to die here-if she wasn't dead already. Annex 87-R seemed to be reserved for Modern-girls who fell into Middle-earth, and tried to pull themselves off as actual inhabitants.  
  
The Maia nodded at a newcomer covered in a rather foul smelling cheese. Due to a typo, the girl had fallen into Brie. "Please take a number, someone will be right with you." Time was, of course, relative. "Margaret Mary Smythe?" the Maia asked, looking directly at Gretel.  
  
"Princess Dirtyfishydishiel," Gretel maintained. She had also learned during her wait that people were reborn from the Halls of Mandos, and therefore she had to try her best to get reborn as the Elven princess she had created.  
  
"One and the same," the Maia replied.  
  
Gretel's heart soared.  
  
"As Mandos is incredibly busy with important people, you have been sent here to be judged and reborn. You will be given a task to complete before you will be able to return to your own time. At the moment..." The Maia looked down at a vellum scroll, "You will have to be sent into Alternate Universe number nine-thousand six hundred fifty-eight. Only when you have availed yourself to be the pleasure-slave of one of the fellowship will you be allowed to return to your own time."  
  
Gretel couldn't believe her ears. Alternate Universes? Pleasure-slave of one of the fellowship? Legolas, here I come! she thought.  
  
Before her, another opening emerged. Gretel eagerly rushed towards it, not hearing the Maia call from behind her, "Have fun with Gimli!" With all the bodies falling into Middle-earth these days, the Ainur had to have a sense of humor. 


	2. A Ranger with Hiccups? or Gollum Knows T...

[a/n] Special thanks to Anthea and the Lord of the Rings Random Ficplot Generator: (www.kitsune.cx/~amorpha/lotr-plotgen.html) and Kero from the OFUM list, who generated the random plot and shared.  
  
Colonel Dirtyfishydishcloth belongs to Tori Amos  
  
Lord of the Rings, and all characters and concepts therein, belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and the Tolkien estate.  
  
To answer the review: I honor Gimli Elf-Friend. I would not bash him. I'm sure he could thrash me from here to infinity if he so desired. He deserves nothing but the utmost respect-and a girl to keep around for a pleasure-slave when the desire comes upon him.  
  
The Woeful tale of Princess Dirtyfishydishiel  
  
Two: A Ranger with Hiccups?  
  
Someone above her hiccupped. Gretel opened her eyes into Alternate Universe Number Nine Thousand, Six Hundred Fifty-Eight-one in which she played a very prominent role. Someone hiccupped again. "A curse on hiccups!" swore a voice. It was quiet and low, yet at the same time conveyed a sense of power.  
  
"We tells him to drink the water, didn't we, Precious," rasped another voice. "But no, Precious, stupid tall Ranger says he's a healer... gollum... He doesn't need advice from us."  
  
"Be silent, foul creature," the hiccupping voice commanded, "or I shall gag you with Elven rope!"  
  
"No!" the second voice cried. "It's so... wholesome!"  
  
"Silence," the first voice said. Then he hiccupped. "I see you are awake," he addressed Gretel. "It was some fall you took, my lady."  
  
Lady! The Ranger called her a Lady! It must mean that she was Princess Dirtyfishydishiel! Of course she was, Gretel thought. Princess Dirtyfishydishiel was brought to Mirkwood by none other than Aragorn himself! It was Aragorn who told Princess Dirtyfishydishiel all about his good friend Legolas, and how much he would love her and adore her. And of course, Gretel noted, it was only duty to her father, Legolas, and King Thranduil that kept Aragorn from ripping off all of her clothes and having his way with her the moment they were alone. Princess Dirtyfishydishiel was, after all, the paragon of beauty in Middle-earth.  
  
Of course, the creature Gollum was never in her story. Who would want Gollum in a story? She had seen him in the movie, all thin and disgusting and totally schizophrenic. He was not hot at all, unlike Legolas the Action Elf, sliding down the stairs in the middle of the battle on the shield. Oh that thought sent a shiver straight to her loins.  
  
Gretel opened her eyes, seeing the handsome and kingly face of Aragorn above her. "Where am I?" she asked. It was a good a question as any to find out where in Princess Dirtyfishydishiel's story she had wound up in.  
  
"Faugh!" hissed Gollum, "Her breath is fouler than the Orcses!"  
  
"Be silent," Aragorn warned again, then hiccupped. To Gretel, he said, "The fall must have addled your wits more than I thought. We are on the edge of Mirkwood. We're delivering Gollum to King Thranduil, and then I'm personally going to see you to..." Aragorn hiccupped.  
  
"Mirkwood!" Gretel said, filling in the empty space Aragorn's hiccup had provided.  
  
"Aye," Aragorn agreed, "Our first destination is King Thranduil's Hall, and then we'll proceed..."  
  
Gretel nodded in agreement. "I remember now," she said happily.  
  
Aragorn looked at her in wonder and hiccupped. "You have the resilience of an Elf," he said aloud wonder in his voice, before another hiccup interrupted his musings.  
  
Gretel's brow furrowed in confusion. Of course she would have the resilience of an Elf. Princess Dirtyfishydishiel was an Elf, after all. She went to sit up, but felt blood rush to her head, causing things to blank a little before clearing. What she saw wasn't very promising. Trees covered with thick cords of vines or something else entirely arched over a dark maw that served as an opening to the forest. "That's not Mirkwood," Gretel stammered. Mirkwood was a bright and cheery place. There was a market the royalty visited regularly, and a shimmering palace with parks and gardens- like Rivendell but much prettier, and richer and grander.  
  
Aragorn hiccupped, but Gretel heard other sounds of muffled laughter. It was then that Gretel realized there were far more people around than just Aragorn and the creature Gollum.  
  
"We lives under the mountain for five-hundred years, Precious" Gollum hissed under his breath, "but even we knows Mirkwood is murky... gollum... gollum. Orcses go there and never come back. Spiderses live there."  
  
Gretel turned to look at the creature, her eyes wild with fear, forgetting for the moment that Princess Dirtyfishydishiel could tame the Spiders of Mirkwood with a song. "Spiders?" she asked, without getting a good look at the pair of dark-haired elves and several men (who weren't as attractive and kingly as Aragorn, so therefore unworthy of noting in Gretel's mind). To Gretel's utter horror, Gollum started in a sing-song chant, oddly accompanied by manly hiccupping:  
  
The giant big black spiderses crawled up the Mirkwood treeses  
  
down comes their poison and knocks you to your kneeses  
  
out comes the threads and bind you up right tight  
  
and the giant big black spiderses, they eatses you all night.  
  
Gretel felt the world go blank again. She always thought the song went "The itsy-bitsy spider."  
  
~*~  
  
Someone above her hiccupped. Once again, Gretel opened her eyes, staring into the very kingly face of the ruggedly handsome (read drop-dead gorgeous, even with the stubble) Aragorn son of Arathorn. "Enough of this," Aragorn said between hiccups. "We have to get moving." He ungraciously hauled her to her feet.  
  
Gretel rubbed her arm where Aragorn had grabbed it. She finally looked at her surroundings, noticing the other men and elves as well as Gollum trussed up like Han Solo had been when the Ewoks kidnapped him. There was another pair of pants she'd like to get into. Gretel shook her head to the matter at hand. She noticed with dismay there were no horses-not even Eequiellennita her own mount (translated from her own made-up Elvish as 'The prettiest horse ever'). "Where are the horses?" she asked.  
  
"All the white horseses are still in bed," Gollum chanted from his position hanging from a pole between two men. "We tells you that we always wants you near..."  
  
"Gag him, Elladan," Aragorn ordered.  
  
Gollum gave such a cry that Gretel was forced to cover her ears with her hands-and still she winced. She thought for certain the creature was about to be killed or in his death throes, such was the noise from his mouth. The cry was abruptly cut to a whimper when one of the dark-haired Elves approached with a strip of cloth.  
  
"We'll be quiet, Precious, we promises," Gollum whimpered.  
  
Aragorn only hiccupped in response, starting out towards the darkened opening where the path led.  
  
"Wait!" Gretel called as one of the Elves urged her forward. "Where are the horses? No one answered my question!" She tried to stomp her foot, but lost her balance, taking a spill on the ground. The Elf hauled her to her feet. Gretel figured she was going to develop a bruise from how these rough men and Elves kept handling her. "Wait until my father, the King, hears about this," Gretel muttered under her breath. Princess Dirtyfishydishiel's Father would not stand for rough treatment of her. Neither would Legolas, once they got to King Thranduil's sparkling palace. 


	3. Strider' Implies Striding

[a/n] Special thanks to Anthea and the Lord of the Rings Random Ficplot Generator: () and Kero from the OFUM list, who generated the random plot and shared.  
  
_Colonel Dirtyfishydishcloth_ and the lyrics to _Winter_ belong to Tori Amos  
  
_Lord of the Rings_, and all characters and concepts therein, belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and the Tolkien estate.

I think I mentioned it in my description, but this is, by nature of the random plot generated, and AU fic, and there are purposeful wild divergences from canon.  
  
I honor Gimli Elf-Friend. I would not bash him. I'm sure he could thrash me from here to infinity if he so desired. He deserves nothing but the utmost respect-and a girl to keep around for a pleasure-slave when the desire comes upon him.  
---------------------------------------------------------------------

  
**The Woeful tale of Princess Dirtyfishydishiel**  
  
Three: Strider Implies Striding   
  
  


Gretel could not believe these people that inhabited Alternate Universe Number Nine Thousand, Six Hundred Fifty-Eight.  They were walking everywhere!  And for long periods of time too!  Princess Dirtyfishydishiel never walked anywhere.  Well, she did, but never for long distances.  That was what her faithful horse, Eequiellennita, was for.  Unfortunately, Eequiellennita did not appear to be around.  She had no idea what Aragorn or any of the others had done to her horse.  When she had asked, the only replies she got were that Eequiellennita (or as it was phrased, 'the horse') was a male (nonsense!), that his name was Bob the Horse, and that Bob chose to live with some guy named Grimbeorn and some so-called Beornings.  Imagine that: Eequiellennita being a male horse, and being named Bob.  Bob was such an ugly name anyway.  Gretel huffed at the thought of a horse having the sense to choose its own name, and choosing one so prosaic as Bob.

What was more disturbing about the whole thing was how long it took to get anywhere.  They had spent days (Weeks!  Months!  Years!) under the icky black boughs of Mirkwood and there was no sign of Thranduil's sparkling palace.  And through the entire time, the creature Gollum had been discussing the oddest things with the Elf twins.  The conversations continue as she was falling asleep, and they were there when she woke up in the morning—oddly enough, right where they had left off when she was falling asleep.  

"Free-falling objectses will accelerate under gravity until they reaches the velocity where the aerodynamic drag force is equal to their weightses, isn't that right, Precious," Gollum was saying as Gretel found consciousness.   

"Yes," one of the Elves replied, "that is the terminal velocity, but how do you know of it?"

"We drops the fishies in the water.  And the heads of Orcses.  Precious gets bored," Gollum replied, then started wailing.  "Precious!  My Precious!  Why did you leave us?  What has it got in its pocketses!  Unfair!  Unfair!"

Gretel covered her ears.  If that didn't wake her up, nothing would.  She stretched as her stomach growled.  Unfortunately, Aragorn decided it best that there be cold rations--not wanting a fire to attract the dark creatures in Mirkwood.  Even days later, he was not entirely cured of his hiccups.  They seemed to go into remission, but always came back.  Aragorn was very sour about it all.  

The Elves were busy binding Gollum into a tight bundle--as if the creature were in swaddling clothes.  They had fastened a cone-like structure to his neck to keep him from chewing at the bindings.  "Back to terminal velocity," the one Elf said, cutting off Gollum's tantrum mid-wail.  

"Yes," Gollum hissed, as though he had not been carrying on to wake the dead moments earlier.  "To calculates the aerodynamic drag force of a given body and hence its terminal velocity, we uses a simple formula that states that at a given altitude, drag is proportional to the streamlining of the body, otherwise known as a drag coefficient; the cross-sectional area of the body; and the square of its speed."

One of the Elves affixed the bag containing the bundled Gollum to his back.  "We are also aware of the drag coefficient and the calculation of a drag forces," he said.  

"We was making sure," Gollum said, raising his nose.  "Stupid Elveses.  Precious does not like Elveses."

"Terminal velocity," the other Elf prompted as the company of men, Elves, Gollum, and Gretel set out for the day.

Gollum cleared his throat.  "Depending on the weight of a object, and using engineering estimateses of the drag coefficient and cross-sectional area for the spread posture, we can calculates the terminal velocity of a falling..."  Gollum looked in Gretel's direction.  "But repeated testses are needed for definitive answers... es," Gollum added belatedly as Gretel felt three pairs of eyes on her. 

"Not that I mind the thought of continued practical tests," the Elf carrying Gollum said, "but what did all of that have to do with the matter at hand?"

Gollum shook his head.  Gretel got the impression that if he had his hands free, Gollum would have been tearing out what little hair he had.  "Because, stupid Elvses," Gollum whined, "It means that your theory on calculation of force of impact was flawed."

"The theory is sound," The laden Elf replied.  "If the altitude was such that terminal velocity was called into question, there would have been a crater, I'm sure.  There was no crater, so the only force we have to worry about is the acceleration due to gravity."

"None of that matters," the unladen Elf said, "because it is not the velocity, whether terminal, or still accelerating that causes death, but the sudden stop at the end." 

Once again, Gretel noticed three pairs of eyes looking at her.  She quickly ran up to where Aragorn was taking the lead.  "How much longer until we get to Thranduil's palace?" she asked him.  

Aragorn hiccupped.  "A very long time indeed, my Lady," he said respectfully.  "but we should reach the settlement of the Mirkwood Elves soon."

Gretel pondered that statement.  The Kingdom she'd get to rule as Legolas's Queen must be larger than she thought.  And on the map, it looked so small.  Maybe that's why it took so long.  "How soon is soon?" she asked the group's leader.  

"Sooner if you keep your mouth shut," Aragorn replied tersely then hiccupped.  

Aragorn's patience seemed thin, Gretel noted.  It was probably the hiccups.  Those would wear on anyone's patience.  "I'll be quiet now," she promised.  "Is everything all right?" she asked in the next breath.  

Aragorn squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then glared at Gretel.   He put his fingers to his lips and continued along the path.  

"Oh right," Gretel said.  "Quiet."  She managed to keep her mouth shut for several more paces, following Aragorn, trying to keep her mind from the conversation between the Elves and Gollum (now moved onto how to perform aforementioned practical research and testing).  She wasn't paying attention to where she was walking, so the spider's netting caught her by surprise.  

Gretel shrieked.

A strong hand clamped over her mouth.  "Are you trying to attract the spiders?" Aragorn's quiet voice whispered in her ear.  

Gretel shook her head as the hand was slowly removed.  "Spider web," Gretel managed to eek out.  

"Stay to the center of the path then," Aragorn warned.  

Gretel nodded, but even as she walked along, jogging half the time to keep pace with the long strides of the tall Rangers and Elves, Gretel felt as if the forest was watching her.  She tried to think of the song that Princess Dirtyfishydishiel sang to make the spiders tame.  How did the song go?

_Spiders, spiders you're not mean_

_You are nice and good and clean_

_Don't you eat me, that's not right_

_Around me, you will not fight._

"What is that supposed to be?" Aragorn asked, stopping so suddenly, Gretel almost ran into him.  

"A song to charm the spiders?" Gretel asked.  She heard hissed laughter coming from behind in the company.  

"The Orcses sing better, gollum... Don't they precious?" Gollum laughed.  

Gretel lifted her chin, feeling her eyes fill with tears.  She didn't care if the Orcs sang like the Vienna Boy's Choir, she would not be insulted by such a foul creature as Gollum.  She wouldn't be.  

"Eru," Aragorn swore on a breath before another fit of hiccups started.  "With all due respect, my Lady," he said in a low voice.  "Silence means silence.  No songs, no screaming, no talking.  Silence.  Do you understand?"

Gretel nodded, trying not to let the tears fall.  

"Good," Aragorn said, turning his back to her and starting to walk again.  "It is only as a great favor that I am doing this," he muttered.  

"I know," Gretel replied.  "And for that I am grateful!"  Aragorn had been asked to bring her to her intended husband, Legolas, as a great favor to Princess Dirtyfishydishiel's father (who remained unnamed through the story).  

"Silence," Aragorn hissed.  

Gretel nodded.

Aragorn hiccupped.


	4. In Which There Are Riddles

**[a/n]** Special thanks to Anthea and the Lord of the Rings Random Ficplot Generator: () and Kero from the OFUM list, who generated the random plot and shared.  
  
_Colonel Dirtyfishydishcloth_ and the lyrics to _Winter_ belong to Tori Amos  
  
_Lord of the Rings_, and all characters and concepts therein, belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and the Tolkien estate.

Gretel, alas, is mine.  She is not a real person.  She is not a self-insert.  She is a product of my diseased imagination. 

No animals were harmed in the writing of this fic.

Bob is a very nice name.

I think I mentioned it in my description, but this is, by nature of the random plot generated, and AU fic, and there are purposeful wild divergences from canon.  
  
I honor Gimli Elf-Friend. I would not bash him. I'm sure he could thrash me from here to infinity if he so desired. He deserves nothing but the utmost respect--and a girl to keep around for a pleasure-slave when the desire comes upon him.  
---------------------------------------------------------------------

  
**The Woeful tale of Princess Dirtyfishydishiel**  
  
Four: In Which There Are Riddles

"What has it got in its pocketses?" Gretel heard from her state of semi-consciousness.  She cracked an eye open to see Gollum inching his way towards her.  His hands were bound together, as were his feet.  Yet still, on elbows and knees, he was making his way, hissing to himself.  

Gretel screamed.  

Several Rangers and two Elves had weapons drawn immediately.  

"We see nothing," said one of the Elves--Gretel still couldn't tell them apart.  Of course, once she was married to Legolas, she wouldn't ever have to worry about them again.  After all, Legolas lived through the War of the Ring, and he married Princess Dirtyfishydishiel.  Two elves named Ella-something and Elro-something-else never made it into the tale of passion and love between Legolas and Princess Dirtyfishydishiel.  

Except in person, they were really hot.  

Aragorn grabbed her by her shoulder and forcibly turned her to face him.  "You would do well, my Lady, to remain silent and try not to get us all killed with your screeching."  

Gretel's lower lip trembled, but she nodded.  Aragorn seemed to have an ability to give a look as if he was about to kill you--and enjoy doing so--if you did not comply with his wishes.  

It was quickly decided that since everyone was awake, it was time to get moving again.  Once more, Gollum was trussed up like a papoose and strapped to the back of one of the Elves.  As the line of Rangers, Elves, and Gretel marched through Mirkwood, Gretel found herself looking at Gollum.  

Gollum stared back.  

And stared...

And stared...  

"Stop that!" Gretel said.  

Gollum smiled in triumph.  It wasn't a very pretty sight; one that Gretel never wanted to see again in her life.  

"It stared at us first," Gollum hissed.  

Gretel frowned.  "Well how can I help but stare at such an ugly misshapen freak like you!" she spat finally.  

Gollum grinned again, as if he were echoing her words back at her.  This smile seemed worse than the last.  "Does it know riddles?" Gollum asked.  

Gretel shrugged.  There wasn't much else to pass the time while they walked (and walked and walked for eternity).  She had skimmed the Hobbit; she knew of the game.  "Sure," she said finally.

Gollum smiled for the third time in as many minutes, giving Gretel the willies once more.  "We goes first," Gollum declared.  "What is always in the future but never in the present?" he asked.  

For about ten steps, Gretel thought on that, but she finally shook her head.  "I don't know.  I give up."

Gollum rolled his eyes.  "Tomorrow," he said. "We wins!  You think up one now."  

Gretel wracked her brain, but couldn't come up with any riddles she knew.  Really stupid jokes, yes, but riddles?  "What is your name?" Gretel asked.  

"Gollum," Gollum replied.  "We wins again!  At night they come without being fetched, and by day they are lost without being stolen."

Gretel pondered that one.  "The stars?" she asked.  

Gollum looked sullen.  "Drats," he muttered.  "Now you thinks of one and make it better."

Once again, Gretel's mind was blank for riddles, so she followed down the same course she had started before.  "What is your quest?" she asked him.  

Gollum immediately started thrashing in his bindings.  "Precious!" he called.  "Precious!  We wants it!  Stupid Hobbit!  Precious!  Precious!"  His hissing esses were swallowed up by the dark forest on either side of the path.   

He continued to thrash around until the Elf carrying him turned to face Gretel.  "Do you mind?" he asked.  "If you think it's so much fun to provoke him, why don't you try carrying him around?"

"Sorry," Gretel muttered, trying to feel contrite.  

"Elladan," the Elf carrying Gollum called.  "Rope!"

Gollum silenced immediately.  "Each morning I appear to lie at your feet, all day I will follow no matter how fast you run, yet I nearly perish in the midday sun.  What is I?" Gollum chanted in the blessed silence that followed.  

"I don't..." Gretel started before she even started thinking about it.  "Wait, it's your shadow!" she said, pleased she was actually getting the hang of it.  "What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?" she pounced.  

With a completely straight face, Gollum replied, "Easterling or Rhohirric?" 

Gretel blinked for a moment, and then shook her head.  Africa and Europe didn't exist in Middle-earth.  "Fine!" she said.  "What do I have in my pocket?" pulling out the proverbial trump-card riddle that Bilbo had used in _The Hobbit_.  

The smile that Gollum smiled was at least ten times worse than the ones that had graced his face before.  "What does it have in its pocketses?" Gollum asked.  Gretel got the feeling that Gollum was the proverbial cat toying with a crippled mouse.  "It has got nothing in its pocketses.  It is just happy to see us."  

The lewd joke on Gollum's lips almost made her want to throw up.  Except the trees were laughing at her.  She didn't know how she knew, but she had the feeling that the trees were laughing.  She heard the trees laughing.

And then there were Elves everywhere; so many Gretel didn't know which one to drool over.  "We have not had such amusement since watching the Dwarves come through, oh, years ago!" the Elf in charge remarked to Aragorn.  

Legolas.  

Gretel's heartbeat increased.  This was it!  This was what happened in Princess Dirtyfishydishiel's tale!  Legolas took one look at her and said...

"What is that?" Legolas asked Aragorn.  

The Ranger looked at Gretel then back to Legolas.  "A favor from a very important personage."  Aragorn handed Legolas the scroll he carried.  

Legolas read the scroll, shaking his head every so often.  And then he went pale.  "What a horrid doom!" he gasped.  "I would not wish that upon any creature!  I would rather it be an Orc," Legolas continued, just staring at the scroll, as if he were trying to comprehend what was written there.

Gretel's heart soared.  Legolas hated her!  Just like in her story!  He'd be in love with her in no time!  

"Come," Legolas said, gesturing to the Rangers and Elves.  "My Elf Lord awaits."  

~*~

It was a cave?  Thranduil's sparkling palace was a cave?  A dark, dank, dirty, musty cave?  Ok, so it wasn't dark, dank, dirty, or musty.  But it was still a cave.  No balconies.  No gardens.  Nothing.  It wasn't out of a fairy-tale.  It wasn't out of a children's story!  Well, it was, but not the ones that counted.  At least not to Gretel.  What kind of self-respecting king lived in a cave?  It was... a cave!  

And the Elves seemed to like it!  

It's not like the palace was under renovations or something.  It hadn't been burned to the ground in a terrible fire.  It didn't exist.  There was no palace.  Just a cave in a dark terrible forest with giant spider webs.  It was miserable.  How was Princess Dirtyfishydishiel supposed to live in a cave?  

She didn't care that it was a magnificent cave, with doors that sealed up and only those who knew the secret were able to open them.  She didn't care that there was the river running beneath the cave where barrels were downstream to the colony of Men, and rowed back upstream laden with goods.  She didn't care that it was a wholesome cave--not dank and dark like Orc caves.  It was still a cave, and nothing like the sparkling palace she had envisioned for Princess Dirtyfishydishiel.  It was all just so... rustic.  So... woodsy.   Stupid Wood-Elves.  How dare they have a woodsy feel to them!   How dare Mirkwood be dark and murky!  Stupid Tolkien having things make sense and having things live up to their names!   

She sat on the edge of a clearing outside Thranduil's cave, watching Leoglas, rubbing her sore feet, and pouting.  Legolas, of course, ignored her.  Still, she could hear echoes of Gollum's revenge being repeated between the Elves, causing no end to the merry laughter.  "She was just happy to see him!"  


	5. What Can Brown Do For You?

**[a/n]** Holey Potatoes! An update!

Special thanks to Anthea and the Lord of the Rings Random Ficplot Generator: () and Kero from the OFUM list, who generated the random plot and shared.  
  
_Colonel Dirtyfishydishcloth_ and the lyrics to _Winter_ belong to Tori Amos  
  
_Lord of the Rings_, and all characters and concepts therein, belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and the Tolkien estate.

Gretel, alas, is mine.  She is not a real person.  She is not a self-insert.  She is a product of my diseased imagination. 

No animals were harmed in the writing of this fic.

Bob is a very nice name.

As is Margaret.  I apologize to any Margarets, Gretels, Marys and to anyone bearing the last name of Smythe (or even the first or middle name of Smythe).  Gretel is not a reflection of any of you, just as said before, a product of my diseased imagination.  

I think I mentioned it in my description, but this is, by nature of the random plot generated, and AU fic, and there are purposeful wild divergences from canon.  
  
I honor Gimli Elf-Friend. I would not bash him. I'm sure he could thrash me from here to infinity if he so desired. He deserves nothing but the utmost respect--and a girl to keep around for a pleasure-slave when the desire comes upon him.  
---------------------------------------------------------------------

  
**The Woeful tale of Princess Dirtyfishydishiel**  
  
_Five: What can Brown do For You?_

"Arise."  

The one word, spoken in such an authoritative way brought Gretel's head up off her elbows.  For some strange reason, the Elves had no beds.  She was certain she had read something someplace of their being beds in Rivendell.  Frodo had woken up in one in the movie.  The Elves had to sleep sometime, didn't they?  Unfortunately, she never found out if they did or didn't sleep, because her own exhaustion forced her into a sleep, and when she was that tired, she didn't care if Elves slept or not.  

They had to sleep, though, didn't they?  After all, they were like humans.  

"I said arise," The voice came again.  It was very kingly, and there were those hiccups again.  It must be Aragorn.  

"I don't think it hears you," hissed Gollum.  

"Legolas," Aragorn commanded, "shouldn't this thing be in the dungeon?"

Legolas?  Gretel sat up immediately, looking around for the Elf of her dreams.  Of course, by the time her eyes cleared from the vertigo that came from sitting up too quickly, Legolas and Gollum were gone, though there were Aragorn's company of Rangers and the two Elf Twins standing around her; they looked impatient.

"Good, you are awake," Aragorn remarked.  "Get yourself ready quickly.  We're leaving shortly."

"Leaving?" Gretel asked; suddenly very, very awake.  

Aragorn turned and gave Gretel a very patient stare.  "Yes, leaving," he reiterated.  

"But why?" Gretel asked.  "We just got here!"  She hadn't even had time to corner Legolas and have their arranged marriage so he could hate her and then come to miss her and love her on the Quest, and them come back bearing a ring from Frodo's Mithril vest and mount the sapphire and the diamonds in it and give it to her proving his love to her and they could live happily ever after, DAMNIT!  

"I am sorry, my Lady," Aragorn said, his words polite, but his tone clipped as if she had crossed one too many lines with him.  "I have my orders."

Gretel held out her hand.  "Let me see them!" she demanded.  

With a heavy sigh, Aragorn handed over the vellum scroll.  Gretel opened it, finding the letters foreign to her.  It looked like the markings in the movie on the One Ring, all pretty and flowing and curvy, but entirely senseless.  As if anyone could read that sort of stuff.  

"Allow me," Aragorn said, and began to read the letter:

_Dearest Aragorn, son of Arathorn, also called Strider, Estel, Elessar, Etc._

_Greetings from Valinor!  Námo asked me to put this request to you, as it is a very delicate situation, and not something normally done in your duties.  Therefore, calling on the love you bear for your ancestors, I ask you to convey this girl (see attached) to Erebor, to Gimli son of Glóin, who is in need of some female companionship, as per the following request: _

_'Mahal, I worry about my son Gimli.  He spends most of his days at the smith creating matchless works of beauty.  Granted, this is a normal Dwarvish custom, but I am getting old now, and would like for my son to find some companionship when I am no longer here.  Therefore, I ask you to please send a female--any female--to Erebor.  I understand that beggars cannot be choosers, therefore I do not ask specifically for a Dwarf, but please make her sturdy and suitable for a companion to a Dwarf.  Signed Glóin son of Gróin.'  _

_As it will keep Aulë happy, and therefore Yavanna happy, and therefore all the trees here in Valinor happy, please attend to this duty post-haste.  _

_Sincerely,_

_Your Great Great Great Great Great Great Great, etc. Grandmother, Melian. _

_PS. Don't forget to wash behind your ears.  _

_PPS. Celebrían wishes to tell Elladan and Elrohir to stop laughing at Aragorn, and to remind them to pack clean underclothes when they are tromping through the woods hunting Orcs.  She also wishes them to give her love and kisses to Elrond and Arwen, and asks to them to remind Elrond that when he finally takes the ship West that she would like him to bring her a shrubbery._

"That is the letter," Aragorn said with utmost dignity.  The two dark-haired elves stopped laughing almost immediately when clean underclothes were mentioned.  

Gretel stared at him, her jaw slack.  Gimli?  She was being given to Gimli?  Princess Dirtyfishydishiel was supposed to be Legolas's wife!  "No!" she said, protesting, grabbing the letter from Aragorn's hands.  "No, that can't be right, tell me you lied.  Tell me this is some practical joke."  

Aragorn's face was impassive, save for the periodic hiccup.  "If it is a jest, my lady, it is the jest of the Valar and not myself."  

Gretel belatedly recalled the parting words of the Maia what seemed like ages ago.  She flopped down on the ground, curling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees and started to pout.  "I'm not going," she declared.  She wasn't going.  Not to Gimli.  He was so short, and hairy and... short and... hairy and ugly and... hairy and short.  He didn't even have pointed ears and he was short, and had all that stupid armor on and was short... and hairy.  And it was bushy hair, not smooth and pretty like Legolas's hair.  "I'm not going," she repeated.  

~*~

"She complains worse than Gollum," One of the twins said, steering the raft made of barrels down the river.  

"Even Thranduil had pity for Gimli," the other replied, "and everyone knows by now how Glóin and the rest of the Dwarves were treated in Mirkwood a few years back."  

"No one deserves that," the first said.  

The 'that' in question was still pouting and moping, occasionally wailing, often whimpering, her feet dangling over the side of the raft.  "I should just throw myself in now," Gretel moaned.  

"I cannot let you do that, my Lady," Aragorn said seriously.  "I'm on orders from a higher being."  

"If I cannot marry Legolas, I might as well die," Gretel pouted.  Well, unless one (or both... ooh, both) of the twin sons of Elrond chose to rescue her from her black pit of despair-filled depression.  Maybe Aragorn might help too.  This idea was getting better and better.  And if the Rangers had to jump in the river to rescue her, they'd get some sort of washing going on, or at leas a good rinse.  And then all the incredibly rugged men and beyond sexy Elves would vie for her attention.  And Legolas would get jealous and he'd leap in too, and she could have the twins and Legolas (and his father didn't look bad either)...  Gretel leaned forward intending to fall in the water.  

Her collar tightened around her neck.  Gretel looked up to see Aragorn holding fast to the back of her collar.  "I do not think so, my Lady," he warned.  "I am not having the Ainur wroth with me from your misguided attempts to snuff your own life."  

"Gimli is ugly!" Gretel wailed.  "And short, and hairy!" 

"Here we go again."  

"I miss Gollum."

~*~

Why did mountains have to be so steep?  Gretel most certainly did not enjoy the steepness of the climb.  She didn't particularly enjoy the height either.  Why did mountains have to be so tall?  Why did mountains have to be mountains at all?  "Can we rest yet?" Gretel gasped.  Certainly none of the other Men or Elves seemed to be having trouble with the climb up the mountain.  

"We're almost there," Aragorn encouraged.  "We only have to go to the Gate."  

When at last the Gate was reached, a grueling, whining, painful, pitying hour later, Aragorn knocked at someplace Gretel could only assume was a door, though she could see no sign of one.  

"Who are you that come baring a strange and odd creature?" a voice boomed from the top of the wall of the Gate.  

Aragorn looked up.  For some reason, while Gretel looked at him, she noticed his usual Ranger clothes were gone.  Unfortunately, he was not nude.  He was dressed in a button-down brown shirt with matching brown shorts of a familiar delivery service.  His brown socks even had the symbol emblazoned on them.  "Delivery for one Gimli, son of Glóin!" he called to the Dwarf atop the walls.  

"One moment!" the Dwarf yelled back.  

Gretel was certain more than one moment had passed by the time the Gate opened and two Dwarves appeared, one appearing much older than the other.  "She has arrived!" the older Dwarf said eagerly.  The younger one eyed Gretel warily as if she was a deadly incarnation of a heretofore undiscovered race—one whose very look was poison.  

"Sign here, please," Aragorn said, holding out an anachronistic electronic device upon which the old Dwarf wrote his signature.  "Thank you and enjoy your..." Aragorn paused, trying to find an accurate description. Failing to find any words, he just gestured at Gretel.  He nodded his head once and turned, his cloak swirling out behind him as once again he was clad in his familiar smelly Ranger clothes.  

"We should get her inside," Glóin told his son.  

Gimli was still eyeing Gretel, making her feel rather uncomfortable.  "Aye, well she'll be good for hauling stone at least," Gilmli pronounced.  

And thus Gretel was taken through the Gate and into the Lonley Mountain.  


	6. A Moment of Woe, Damnit!

**[a/n]** Holy Potatoes! An update!  And an ever-growing disclaimer!

Special thanks to Anthea and the Lord of the Rings Random Ficplot Generator: () and Kero from the OFUM list, who generated the random plot and shared.  
  
_Colonel Dirtyfishydishcloth_ and the lyrics to _Winter_ belong to Tori Amos  
  
_Lord of the Rings_, and all characters and concepts therein, belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and the Tolkien estate.

_UPS_ (ticker--UPS) is a $30 billion corporation focusing on the goal of enabling commerce around the globe.  I do not currently own any part of UPS, but I could, as could you, for $63.78 a share at the time of writing this disclaimer.

_Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Grumpy, Dopey, Bashful_, and _Doc_ all belong to the Walt Disney Company (ticker—DIS), the number two media conglomerate in the world.  I do not currently own any part of Dinsey, but I could, as could you for $21.99 a share at the time of writing this disclaimer.  

_Mommie Dearest_ is owned by Christina Crawford (print) and Paramount Pictures (screen).  Both the original book by Christina Crawford and the 1981 movie starring Faye Dunaway can be purchased at any store.

Gretel, alas, is mine.  She is not a real person.  She is not a self-insert.  She is a product of my diseased imagination. 

No animals were harmed in the writing of this fic.

Bob is a very nice name.

As is Margaret.  I apologize to any Margarets, Gretels, Marys and to anyone bearing the last name of Smythe (or even the first or middle name of Smythe).  Gretel is not a reflection of any of you, just as said before, a product of my diseased imagination.  

I think I mentioned it in my description, but this is, by nature of the random plot generated, and AU fic (AU #9658 to be exact), and there are purposeful wild divergences from canon.  
  
I honor Gimli Elf-Friend. I would not bash him. I'm sure he could thrash me from here to infinity if he so desired. He deserves nothing but the utmost respect--and a girl to keep around for a pleasure-slave when the desire comes upon him.  
---------------------------------------------------------------------

  
**The Woeful tale of Princess Dirtyfishydishiel**  
  
_Six: A Moment of Woe, Damnit!_

Such woe had never befallen a princess as had befallen on Princess Dirtyfishydishiel.  And due to the nature of the acceleration due to gravity, woe could be quite heavy when falling.  Gretel almost got a concussion, except she managed to cover her head in time.   But back to the woe...  Gretel was a virtual slave--no!--she **_was_** a slave!  Her poor life was filled with woe due to her unnatural subjugation and cruel treatment at the hands of the eevil Dwarves (they were so evil, they deserved a second 'e' just like 'eerie' is eerier than 'Erie' which is a very nice lake and/or city in the northwest corner of Pennsylvania, it is also a county in both Pennsylvania and New York State, but I digress.  Back to the woe...).  The sun might as well not exist for all she saw of her!  The moon might have fallen into the ocean along with the stars as much as she saw them!  She **_toiled_** under the Lonely Mountain day in and day out, a never-ceasing **_torment_** of involuntary employment, and her life was willed with woe, damnit, woe!

Actually, her life really wasn't that bad, but it wouldn't be a woeful tale without the woe.  So, as the woe is over, onto the story...

"She is not a proper woman," Gimli muttered to his father.  "She has no whiskers."

Glóin nodded in a proper fatherly way.  "I believe she is of the race of Man, though like no Man I have seen," he concluded.  "However, their women do not have whiskers, unnatural as it may seem."

"Aye, it is unnatural," Gimli agreed, but sought to find the positive in appearance of his companion.  "Her bosoms are at a good height though."

Glóin had noted that as well.  "Indeed they are.  And has she been useful?" he queried as they smoked by the fire after their meal.  

Gimli grinned.  At least his beard lifted at the corners of his mouth, and hints of his teeth showed through his whiskers.  "She has learned the differences between the tools, so can assist me adequately in the smithy.  And after a few hours, her whining subsides, which then makes her company improve.  And really, what are a few hours in the life of a Dwarf?"  Gimli chuckled.  "She sleeps a lot as well," he observed.  "No matter, her back is strong and her legs are good.  Thank you, Father, for arranging a helper for me."

The older Dwarf smiled warmly, taking a puff from his pipe.  "Good thing no harm came to her from that perfidious Elf-king.  Now _that_ was an adventure.  Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins," he mused, lost in nostalgic recollection.  "No one tells it better than your cousin Balin..."  

Gretel decided she wanted to hear no more of the conversation.  She had heard the stupid tale many times before.  She had even seen that cartoon.  The green door in the hole in the hill.  Gandalf, Bilbo and all the Dwarves: Thorin, Óin, Glóin, Balin, Dwalin, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Grumpy, Dopey, Bashful, Doc.  Blah, blah, blah...  These people desperately needed television.  And indoor plumbing.  Indoor plumbing was a **_must_**.  

Gretel sighed woefully, as was her want, since she was determined to make her life woeful, and sought the outdoors.  She wasn't so stupid as to believe she could make her way back to Mirkwood.  Well she could finally find the place, but she has no clue whatsoever on how to survive alone in the wild.  And what if she didn't run into the Elves, but ran into the spiders instead?  Oh, the thought of those spiders made her skin crawl.  She was sick of Middle-earth.  She wanted out of it all and back in a place where one could turn on the water and bathe five times a day if you wanted to!  She wanted to be back in a place where there were toilets and modern medicine and television and movies and CDs and DVDs and all other sorts of modern conveniences!  

As she emerged from the mountain at a small clearing, she blinked at the sun, as she did each time she made her way to the surface.  In fact, it was generally about twice or three times a day she got to see the sky, sunlit or moonlit.  But it was much more dramatic if she could wallow in thinking she never got to see the sun.  "Why?" she called to the heavens.  "Why am I still here?  I've become Gimli's slave, wasn't that the price?"

Apparently, the Ainur were finally ready to humor her plea, as she had been making the same plea every day since she had arrived in Erebor.  If it were a television show, it would be time for the obligatory flash of memory.  What did happen was an adorable furry creature ambled up before Gretel and sat down.  It was a bear cub to be precise, and it looked at Gretel with the largest, sweetest, most adorable eyes she ever did see on a fuzzy woodland creature.  Unfortunately, as with most young unable to fend for themselves in the wild, Mommie Dearest was right there, and Mommie Dearest was displeased Gretel was so close to her baby.  And Mommie Dearest managed to acquire a wire hangar.  

~*~

Gretel awoke to find a creature of supernatural beauty looking down at her. The creature was humanoid in appearance, fair beyond the measure of men, with pointed ears. She sat up far to fast, causing a dizzy-spell. She held her head and looked around. It looked like triage in an ER, there were so many bodies around. Some were waiting patiently, some were standing, some were sitting on the ground, still unconscious. She had the feeling that she had been here before.

"Welcome to the Halls of Mandos," said the Maia. "Before we sort you out, we're going to need a little information in order to best process you. I need your name, race, and the approximate date upon which you fell." 

Gretel groaned, still feeling welts from the wire-hanger-wielding-bear.   "Princess Dirtyfishydishiel of... Screw it," she moaned.  "Gretel Smythe.  I've been trapped with Gimli and the Dwarves, and I want to go home now!"

The Maia nodded, writing on a scroll that appeared out of nowhere. "You again, right," the Maia said, pointing to a suddenly appearing entryway. "Off you go." 

As Gretel walked towards the door, she heard the Maia sigh to a companion, "Why can't they ever learn not to pet the wildlife? Welcome to the Halls of Mandos..." 

~*~

"Number seven-hundred eighty-six thousand, five-hundred and two?" a voice asked. 

Gretel down at the slip of paper in her hands, either by odd coincidence or fate, she had the same number she had had when she was here once before.  In fact, she was also sitting in Annex 87-R which was the same annex she had been waiting in before. "Here," Gretel called.  During the time she was waiting, Gretel had a very nice conversation with a girl about her own age who was claiming to be Elrond's mysterious other daughter by Galadriel.  She was going to get married to Aragorn.  Gretel wished her all the luck in the world.   

"Margaret Mary Smythe?" the Maia asked, looking directly at Gretel.  Gretel nodded in response.  The Maia looked down at a vellum scroll, "You will have not yet achieved the task set you in Alternate Universe number nine-thousand six hundred fifty-eight. Let me remind you that only when you have availed yourself to be the _pleasure-slave_ of one of the fellowship--Gimli to be specific--will you be allowed to return to your own time." 

That was what she had blocked out as soon as she realized she was being delivered to Gimli.  Gretel pinched her eyes shut.  She was going to have to be the pleasure-slave of a Dwarf!  The Ainur had a cruel sense of humor to put her to this task when she was an avowed Elf-lover! 

Before her, another opening emerged. "Have fun with Gimli!" the Maia called after Gretel as the young woman trudged through.

~*~

"Well there you are!" a gruff voice sounded near Gretel's ear.  "You gave us quite the scare."

Gretel reluctantly opened her eyes, having recognized Gimli's voice.  There didn't appear to be a bear anywhere.  Nor did it appear that there had ever been a bear there in recent memory.  In fact her hanger-welts were gone.  Could it been that she just fell asleep?  

"You shouldn't wander about alone," Gimli continued.  "There are dangerous creatures about."

"Bears," Gretel agreed.  

"Those too," Gimli said.  "Now come inside by the roaring fire," he urged her, helping her to stand.  "The nights are very chill."

Gretel couldn't argue with that statement.  It was getting rather chilly out, especially since the sun had gone down and the moon and stars were out (the ones she woefully refused to acknowledge that she saw on a nightly basis).  She shivered and followed Gimli back inside.  The next question was how would she manage to become Gimli's pleasure-slave so she could just go home? 


End file.
